Ash woke to sunlight streaming through his windows and a dull, persistent throb in his left ankle. The healers had changed the bandages again last night, but the sprain still protested every small movement. He lay there for a long moment, staring at the canopy above his bed, replaying the scene in Ignis's suite.
Last night, The Dragon Lord's voice had been raw, almost broken. Ash had seen the way Ignis's shoulders tensed, the violent lash of that powerful tail, the way those golden eyes had refused to meet his as he walked out. Every word had been a shield. Every step away from that room had felt like dragging lead weights.
Ash dragged a hand down his face and groaned. "You're an idiot, Ash Harrison. Original Asher would never be as pathetic as you."
He forced himself up, swinging his legs over the side of the bed and reaching for the crutch. The palace was already stirring—servants moving through the halls, the distant sound of guards changing shifts, and the faint scent of fresh bread and spiced tea drifting in from somewhere.
By the time he'd dressed (simple dark tunic and trousers, nothing too formal), a servant announced that the joint strategy meeting on the caravan attacks would begin in an hour. Ash's stomach tightened. Ignis would be there. Seraphina would be there. His parents would be watching everything with those sharp, knowing eyes.
He made his way slowly to the private council chamber, the crutch tapping rhythmically against the marble. Seraphina found him halfway there.
"You look like you didn't sleep," she said, falling into step beside him. Her flame-red hair was braided neatly today, and she wore a flowing gown in soft gold that suited the morning light. Spark rode on her shoulder, blinking lazily.
"Pot calling the kettle," Ash replied with a tired smile. "You've got shadows under your eyes too."
Seraphina's tail flicked once. "Father was restless last night. I could hear him pacing from three floors down." She glanced at him sideways, golden eyes gentle but perceptive. "You went to see him after the banquet, didn't you?"
Ash didn't bother denying it. "Yeah. He told me to leave before i even got there."
Seraphina let out a soft, then loud laugh. "That sounds like him. He's been lonely for so long, he doesn't know how to welcome someone with open arms." She bumped her shoulder lightly against his. "Give him time. He's stubborn, but he's not blind."
****
The meeting was already underway when they entered. Emperor Frederick sat at the head of the long table, maps and reports spread before him. Empress Aurora was beside him, elegant and watchful. Ignis occupied the seat of honor to the Emperor's right—impossibly tall, regal, and radiating tension. His obsidian horns caught the light streaming through the tall windows, and his golden eyes flicked up the instant Ash stepped inside.
Their gazes locked.
For one heartbeat, the coldness cracked. Ash saw heat flicker in those golden depths—hunger, frustration, raw longing—before Ignis schooled his expression back into cool neutrality. His tail, however, gave him away, the tufted tip twitching sharply beneath the table.
"Prince Asher," Ignis greeted, voice perfectly controlled. "I trust you rested well."
"Like a baby," Ash lied, lowering himself into the chair across from Ignis with a barely-hidden wince. "I hope you also find your suite comfortable."
Ignis's claws flexed once on the table's edge.
The meeting began in earnest. Reports of the latest attacks painted a worrying picture: five caravans now, all carrying goods meant to symbolize the new alliance. No deaths, but clear, deliberate destruction. The attackers left no traces—no banners, no demands, only chaos.
"They're testing us," Ignis said, his deep voice cutting through the discussion. "Striking at symbols rather than vital supply lines. This is psychological. Someone wants the alliance to feel cursed before it can truly take root."
Ash nodded, forcing his mind to strategy instead of the way Ignis's robes stretched across his broad chest. "My agents found faint traces of dark magic at two sites. Not strong enough to track, but consistent. Whoever this is, they're skilled at covering their tracks."
Emperor Frederick leaned forward. "Lord Ignis Asher mentioned you suspect an old enemy."
Ignis's expression darkened. "An old chaos-bringer. One who finds entertainment in watching empires bleed for no reason but his amusement. If he has decided our alliance is his new stage…" The Dragon Lord's golden eyes met Ash's again, heavy with warning. "Then we must deny him the show he craves."
Under the table, Ash felt something brush his uninjured ankle — warm scales, a deliberate but brief touch. Ignis's tail. The contact was gone almost instantly, as if the Dragon Lord had caught himself and pulled away in self-disgust.
Ash's heart clenched.
Whatever Ignis was thinking , it was eating him alive. Ash could see it in the rigid set of those shoulders, the way the Dragon Lord refused to look at him for more than a few seconds at a time, the forced coolness in every word.
The meeting dragged on for another hour—joint patrol routes, information sharing, magical wards on future caravans. Through it all, Ash felt Ignis's attention like a physical weight. Every time he shifted to ease his ankle, Ignis's gaze would snap to him, jaw tightening, before looking away again.
When the session finally ended, Seraphina excused herself to take Spark for a flight around the floating gardens. Ash's parents lingered only briefly before leaving as well, though Empress Aurora gave Ash a meaningful look that clearly said things that needed no words.
Soon, only Ash and Ignis remained in the chamber.
Ignis stood abruptly, robes swirling. "You should rest that leg."
Ash pushed himself up with the crutch, refusing to let the Dragon Lord escape so easily. "You've been avoiding looking at me properly since last night."
Ignis froze mid-turn. His tail lashed once. "I am not—"
"You are." Ash limped closer, stopping just out of arm's reach. "You touch me under the table like you can't help it, then pull away like it burns you. You tell me to leave, but your eyes say something completely different. Talk to me, Ignis."
Ignis's golden eyes finally met his fully. The conflict there was devastating—pride, duty, desire, and self-loathing all warring at once.
"Nonsense," Ignis said, voice low and strained. "Every time I look at you, I see the man my daughter cares for. The man who is supposed to become my son by marriage."
He took a shaky breath, claws digging into his own palms.
"I am trying to do what is right, Asher. For her. For both our peoples. Stop making it so damn difficult."